


let my mind reset

by swingingparty



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Meteorstuck, Nightmares, Pining, if you squint ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23656147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swingingparty/pseuds/swingingparty
Summary: Rose lets out a soft whimper, tense expression contorting into one of obvious pain, even with her eyes closed, and Kanaya realizes that she’s having a nightmare.Well. Shit.
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	let my mind reset

The common room is dark enough so that, when Kanaya Maryam enters, squinting through the gloom to try and locate the swing kit she swears she left down here earlier, she almost screams when a figure, splayed out, materializes at the table.

For one, long second, Kanaya stays in the doorway, unable to move because she is entirely convinced that she’s looking at the body of one of their fallen comrades that Gamzee has been keeping in the ventilation ducts with him and she doesn’t even have her lipstick on her, _goddamnit;_ upon closer, rather hesitant inspection, though, it is revealed that the body at the table is, in fact, not a dead one. Rather, it is Rose Lalonde, and she is very much living.

Sleeping, though, with her head pillowed atop her arms, some menacing-looking tome open at her side. Her trademark headband is askew, a few stray hairs falling into her eyes, her breathing deep and slow.

Kanaya approaches and sits a few feet down the bench from the girl, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of her lips. Here, Rose looks so exceedingly different from how she normally does—upright, poised to the point of tension, meticulously monitored and controlled. It has been an endless point of fascination for Kanaya, Rose’s extensive and determined self-regulation and control. Perhaps a point of concern, too; in the time they have spent together, both on Trollian and in person now on the meteor, Kanaya can could the number of times she’s seen Rose genuinely let down her guard on no hands. Which is to say, of course, it’s an occurrence she has yet to experience. 

But now. Now, Rose sleeps, and Kanaya is able to get a glimpse as to what that unfettered, brutally honest version of Rose might look like, albeit a silent and unresponsive one. Rose sleeps with her cheek pressed against her forearm, lips parted just slightly. Her arms are resting atop her open journal, a position that almost reads as protective of the contents inside; Kanaya finds some humor in this, as she knows for a fact that anything Rose has been recording in there is all to do with space and timelines and paradoxes and what lies in wait when the meteor journey reaches its end, and all that goes well above her and everyone else’s head. Still, Rose keeps the material hidden, ever the silent protector of the secrets of the universe she and she alone is privy to.

Some days Kanaya is in awe of the vast breadth of knowledge Rose must possess, the extent to which she can see the trajectory of this course they run now, and all the other possible courses. It seems to her a fantastic, beautiful thing, to be able to know so much, see so much.  
Other times, it worries her. Rose often looks so small, wandering around the halls of the meteor. Kanaya can’t imagine how a stature such as hers would fare under the weight of all she knows, much less shoulder that burden entirely alone. 

Rose does not snore as she sleeps, nor does she drool, any of the other things Dave so often teases her about when they’re together, but her breath does come in faint whistles, the beat comfortingly regular. Kanaya watches, counting the pauses in between each inhale.

_Six_.

Rose’s hair, much like her brother’s, is electric white, something akin to a lamp in the gloom of the common room. Unlike Dave, though, her eyes are not the same bright-red, a feature Rose has explained is attributed to some genetic condition Dave developed at birth. The name escapes Kanaya for a moment.

_Five_.

Ocular albinism. There it is. Rose had tried to explain the inner machinations of it some time ago, waving her hands about and occasionally jabbing a finger at Dave’s face in a way Kanaya found deeply endearing and Dave expressed to find deeply unnecessary. Ultimately, it had gone over Kanaya’s head—and this was perhaps to be expected; she’s never had the inherent ability to readily grasp such scientifically-oriented concepts—but she had enjoyed the moment in which she got to fully focus on Rose’s speech all the same.

 _Six_.

Her hair is beautiful, though. A somewhat stifled part of Kanaya wants to touch it, run her hands through it, see if it as really as soft as it appears.

 _Four_.

Her eyes, too, are beautiful: a deep, brilliant violet. Kanaya once tried to compare it to a sight she saw back on Alternia—the distant reaches of a far-away exploding galaxy; though Rose had seemed flattered, if unusually so, Kanaya had found the description to be insufficient, upon later consideration.

 _Four_.

Truthfully, Kanaya thinks she could spend a lifetime trying to distill the innate beauty of Rose’s eyes—or simply Rose in general, if she's being honest—into words. She would fail, most certainly, but it would be such an honor to be afforded the opportunity to at least try.

 _Three_.

Pontification on the future rarely result in anything productive, however. Rose is vague when it comes to how this particular session will end—likely by intention; so much of the work she does now is concentrated on sparing everyone the brunt of the inevitable losses when they do come around—but some inherent feeling in the back of Kanaya’s mind tells her that success might not be guaranteed across the board.

 _Two_.

And what good is it planning a future that hinges so resolutely on an outcome unlikely to happen? She speaks, of course, of the Game here, but also of the track of her relationship with the sleeping girl before her. That, if anything else, remains but a mystery to Kanaya still.

 _Two_.

With a sensation not unlike being doused in a large quantity of ice water, Kanaya realizes that, all the while she has been standing here staring at Rose, something has started to go wrong. Her breathing, once slow and methodical, has become jagged and off-beat, each inhale rasping audibly in the back of her throat. Her face is starting to twitch, too, brow furrowing, lips narrowing into a thin line, jaw clenching and unclenching. Underneath her head, Rose’s hands have balled into fists, knuckles going white with the force of it; Kanaya winces involuntarily at the thought of Rose’s nails, usually kept long, digging painfully into her palms.

She lets out a soft whimper, tense expression contorting into one of obvious pain, even with her eyes closed, and Kanaya realizes that she’s having a nightmare.

Well. Shit.

Suddenly feeling very out of her depth, Kanaya sits herself down. Gently, scared that any sudden movement could make the situation worse, Kanaya places a hand on Rose’s shoulder and, when the girl doesn’t immediately recoil, shakes her, gently. The girl curls in on herself further, like she’s trying to occupy as little space as possible; for someone like Rose, who always seems to fill her allowed space, permanently stuck on larger than life, this shrinking back is as disconcerting as it is unfamiliar. Kanaya feels her heart twist again and she shakes harder.

KANAYA: Rose

KANAYA: Rose Its Me

KANAYA: Its Kanaya

KANAYA: Rose

Rose flinches back, face twisting, pure, unadulterated fear shining though her expression, like someone’s rubbed the grime and dust off a window, and even though Kanaya feels suddenly that she should back up, that she should retract her grip, that she should leave the typical three feet of space in between them—because Rose hates having her personal bubble invaded; this is just one of the many things about her Kanaya has memorized on instinct, burned into the back of her mind—there is a unique agony that comes with seeing her in pain, so Kanaya keeps shaking. 

KANAYA: Its Kanaya Rose

KANAYA: Youre Okay Youre Safe Its Just A Dream

KANAYA: Can You Wake Up Rose 

Upon turning five sweeps old, Kanaya had caved to the relentless pestering of her fiends—namely Karkat, who considered himself something of a tech aficionado, even from such a young age—and made a Trillion account. Creating a username, she was told, was a serious deal, not something to be considered lightly, and though she had brushed this off as a new and particular breed of her friends’ tendencies for overdramatics, she had nevertheless spent a full two days worrying over what her handle should be. 

She had chosen the _auxiliatrix_ component out of a seemingly natural progression; that was the role of her lusus, and Kanaya only assumed that, as she and her friends matured and grew, it would be the role she would slip into as well. It was not an adverse concept; secretly, Kanaya had always enjoyed harboring the idea of herself as the gentle helper, the ‘mom-friend,’ as Dave put it, even as her tendency to lash out armed to the teeth with a chainsaw increased in prevalence as the Game progressed. Maybe the niceties shifted between her and her guardian, but she knew one thing for certain: protecting was she knew how to do, in whatever way the situation mandated.

The violence of Alternia had never been cookie-cutter; rather, the home she and her friends inhabited never missed an opportunity to surprise them with the extent of its brutality, its danger, and Kanaya had assumed fast that no one was coming to keep them safe, not really; and if no one was, then she had to. 

And maybe it’s an extension of that, then, that makes her chest ache in the way that it does as she desperately tries to wake Rose—the desire to keep safe, to help, to protect. She’d be a fool if she told herself anything other than the fact that she cares very much for Rose—and _care_ is a nice word to use, because it’s so refreshingly open-ended, ambiguous, unable to be segmented into a quadrant system that Kanaya realizes more and more as the journey passes humans do not adhere to—so this must just be an extension of the auxiliatrix in her, this pain at watching her struggle. 

It’s easier to think like that, anyways. Better a natural extension of who she knows herself to be than something new, something unfamiliar clogging the gears, so to speak. 

Kanaya brushes Rose’s hair out of her face, smoothing it back behind her ear, and gently runs her fingers along the girl’s cheek. The intimacy of the gesture startles even her, but she pushes it aside; _auxiliatrix_ , she reminds herself; _this is what you were born to do._

KANAYA: Rose

And then, just like that, as if that was the first time Kanaya had said her name and not maybe the fifteenth, Rose’s head jerks up with a snap, eyes now wide and glassy. Kanaya pulls her hands back from Rose’s shoulders, finally letting herself give into the incessant voice in the back of her head telling her _you’re too close you’re too close you’re getting too close,_ and moves away. 

ROSE: Wh—

ROSE: Wha’s goin'—

ROSE: Oh.

ROSE: Um.

She looks, Kanaya thinks, so very tired as she scrubs at her face for a second, pressing her palm over her eyes, mouth still forming a hard line.

KANAYA: Are You Okay

KANAYA: I Did Not Mean To Intrude But I Came Down Here To Retrieve Some Supplies And Was Returning To My Respiteblock When I Noticed You Appeared To Be In Distress

KANAYA: I Apologize If I Stepped Out Of Line Attempting To Wake You I Simply Thought It Would Be The Best Course Of Action

Rose hasn’t dropped her hand from her eyes. Kanaya watches with a sort of powerless worry as her mouth twists into the beginnings of a deep frown, lips peeling back slightly. She hasn’t inhaled in a very long time. She’s also sitting so stiffly Kanaya is half-convinced that one touch would send her shattering into a million pieces.

KANAYA: Rose

KANAYA: Are You Okay

Still no response, but a jagged inhale breaks the silence on Rose’s end. Kanaya squints through the gloom and sees something glistening on the girl’s cheeks. Her stomach flip-flops.

Rose is crying.

Kanaya is so, so out of her depth here.

KANAYA: Rose

KANAYA: I—

KANAYA: Would You Like Me To Leave

KANAYA: I Do Not Wish To Intrude

Still no response. 

KANAYA: Rose

Another shaky inhale, her breath catching. Rose drops her hand to press it over her mouth, her eyes wide and gorgeous and swimming with tears that make Kanaya want to punch something; what, though, she’s not entirely sure. She is sure, however, of the horrible, sick, ever-persistent feeling seeing Rose like this—so undeniably miserable—gives her, and Kanaya makes it her newfound number one goal right then and there to remove Rose’s apparent pain from the equation as soon as possible.

 _Protector_ , she reminds herself, and abandons all discomfort, moving down the bench, closer to Rose, and gingerly places a hand on the girl’s shaking shoulder. When Rose doesn’t jerk away, or tell Kanaya to move, or punch her in the face, she drops her hand to Rose’s shoulder-blade and slowly starts tracing circular patterns with her thumb.

KANAYA: Its Okay

KANAYA: Youre Okay

KANAYA: It Was Just A Bad Dream Rose

KANAYA: Whatever Was In It Cannot Hurt You Now

Rose’s face creases, eyes narrowing in an apparent renewal of misery. Feeling particularly brave, and also particularly desperate to say anything that will make Rose feel better, Kanaya presses on:

KANAYA: I Wont Let It

KANAYA: It Will Have To Go Through Me First

KANAYA: And I Have A Chainsaw

This elicits a small, wet laugh from Rose. Slowly she drops her hand from her mouth and reaches up to rub at her eyes. Kanaya discerns she’s not longer crying, but the look of abject misery on her face has only been infused with a deep exhaustion that seems written into the very lines of her visage. It makes Kanaya feel very, very sad for a moment.

ROSE: As delightful as that imagery is, I rather feel it would be wasted here.

ROSE: Nothing quite so tangible to dismember here, I’m afraid.

Kanaya nods. She doesn’t stop tracing circles on Rose’s back, and maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but she could almost swear the girl leans into the touch, if only for a second.

KANAYA: Would You Like To Talk About It

She’s quiet for a moment. Then:

ROSE: It’s late.

ROSE: You said you were going to bed, at any rate; I don’t want to needlessly keep you awake.

KANAYA: I Would Much Rather Sleep Peacefully At A Later Hour Knowing You Are Doing The Same Then Sleep Now Knowing You Are In Distress

ROSE: Ah.

ROSE: Distress may be an over-ambitious term to describe this, honestly.

ROSE: I fear I have fallen back on my penchant for overdramatics, as per usual.

KANAYA: Somehow I Doubt That

Rose laughs a little. The sound sound bitter, harsh.

ROSE: Oh, ye of little faith.

ROSE: Really, Kanaya, I’m alright. I appreciate your concern, but it was just a dream, as you said. I have them all the time.

KANAYA: You Mean Nightmares

ROSE: Yes, I suppose so.

ROSE: Of no consequence, you see, then.

KANAYA: I Must Be Frank That Injects Much Less Levity Into This Situation Then I Believe You Think It Does

KANAYA: In Fact Now That I Am Aware That This Is A Situation You Face Often And Likely On Your Own I Find Myself Fractionally More Concerned

KANAYA: To Say The Least

ROSE: I’m sorry.

KANAYA: For What

ROSE: Worrying you. It’s really not a big deal.

KANAYA: If It Is To You Then It Is To Me

KANAYA: Would You Like To Talk About It

ROSE: I don’t want to be a bother.

KANAYA: You Never Bother Me Rose

Suddenly she looks so sad again, so tired and small, and Kanaya has to stop herself before she starts drawing mental comparisons between this moment and Eridan shooting her in the stomach. It’s melodramatic, to say the least, and the fact that it might even a little bit of genuine truth to it scares her beyond comprehension.

Because Rose is vague, certainly, but Kanaya is not a fool, and it seems more and more likely that this story will not be ending the way she wishes it does. And it seems so futile, then, to let herself tap into whatever swirls around the base of stomach when she looks at Rose, as if there is any benefit in allowing herself to hope. 

And yet. Because there’s always the yet. 

Kanaya puts her hand back on Rose’s shoulder before she can stop herself. Because there’s always a yet, and Kanaya is more of a fool than she would like to think sometimes.

KANAYA: Not To Be Trite

KANAYA: But Its The Truth

ROSE: Oh.

ROSE: Careful, I might start crying again.

She says it like its supposed to be a joke, the faint lilt of dry humor slowly seeping back into her voice, but her eyes are still wide and her smile is tight around the edges, like the skin of a drum stretched too tight. For a second, Kanaya is convinced her facade will win out, though, and the walls will go back up and she Kanaya will drop her hand and they will pretend this moment never happened. But, then:

ROSE: I rather, um, find myself consumed, as of late, with certain — events, I guess, that transpired before this session.

ROSE: In the Game, I mean. 

Kanaya just nods, tracing the ridges of Rose’s shoulder blades, almost unconsciously. 

ROSE: There was — well, you remember the most of it, I’d wager. My whole meltdown, as it were; the debacle with blowing up planets and — God, what did I call it? Beating the game from the inside out? — and my dabbling in the darker elements of your universe, so to speak.

KANAYA: The Elder Gods

ROSE: Quite.

KANAYA: You Dreamt Of Them

Rose shakes her head, smiling thinly again. 

ROSE: Not as such.

ROSE: I dreamt of my mother.

And Kanaya watches as the girl’s face twists for a brief moment again, eyes shining.

ROSE: When she — when she died, I didn't exactly leave what would be considered an appropriate amount of time to fully process it, as it were.

ROSE: I think a part of me was willing to succumb to the notion that perhaps it was all some sort of horrible dream, or a circumstance which I could entirely circumvent, should I tap into the — the right resources.

ROSE: Said resources being the Horrorterrors.

ROSE: And it worked, which is the most ironic thing, I think; I came within an inch of losing my grasp on the mortal world — I mean, I had to be _killed_ to snap out of it, literally — but at least I wasn’t thinking about all—all that.

On the tabletop, her hands ball into fists, and Kanaya thinks about her nails again for just a second. Then reaches out and unfurls Rose’s hand, smoothing it down with her own. The girl looks a little surprised, maybe, but doesn’t move. Small victories, then.

ROSE: And then I came back and there was just so much to _do._ There was the Green Sun mission, and though that was undeniably an extension of a rather self-destructive breed of grief, I wasn’t actively thinking of my mother when I did that. 

ROSE: Honestly, I think I was just thinking of everyone here. John and Jade and Dave.

ROSE: The trolls.

ROSE: You, in particular. 

Kanaya’s heart jerks momentarily. She pushes it aside. 

ROSE: And then we had to set up the new session and get life on this meteor sorted and it was a welcome distraction, certainly, but—a distraction nonetheless.

ROSE: And I find my attempts at convincing myself otherwise are falling through as of late. So to speak. 

ROSE: It—

Her mouth twists. Underneath her own, Kanaya can feel Rose’s hand shaking. 

ROSE: It doesn’t go away. 

ROSE: All my childhood aspirations and endless research and making pitiful attempts at assisting my friends, and I couldn’t even use a bare modicum of my understanding of — of psychology and trauma to realize that it doesn’t go away.

ROSE: How ridiculous is that?

Kanaya’s shaking her head even before Rose is finished talking, surprising likely the both of them with the ferocity of her gesture. 

KANAYA: You Could Not Be Further From Ridiculous If You Tried Rose

KANAYA: You Were Trying To Keep Yourself From Unravelling In The Only Way You Knew How

KANAYA: You are Thirteen Human Years Old

KANAYA: From My Understanding Of It There Is Nothing About The Human Experience That Suggests Preparing For The Death Of Your Guardian While Also Trying To Prevent Multiple Universes From Ending At The Same Time Is Something You Should Be Expected To Know How To Do

KANAYA: There Is Absolutely No Way You Could Have Prepared For Everything That Happened And Honestly I Am In Awe Of How You Managed To Handle It All

KANAYA: Just The Fact That Youre Still Here Despite It All Is Something To Be Proud Of

It’s Rose’s turn to shake her head. She reaches up and swipes at her face with her free hand. 

ROSE: I never told her I loved her.

ROSE: Not in recent recollection, at least.

KANAYA: Your Guardian

KANAYA: Mother

ROSE: Yes.

ROSE: Our relationship was — complicated.

ROSE: Having gained quite a bit of retrospect as to her situation from my time spent in the Game, I find myself much more sympathetic and even understanding to her struggles, but prior to that, it was hard for me to understand why she was — the way that she was.

ROSE: She drank. Quite frequently.

ROSE: I believe the clinical term would be an alcoholic, but, well. It’s always so much nicer to avoid clinical terms, I think. I find it makes things easier to comprehend. Rather a simple problem than a genuine disease, at least.

ROSE: But it — the drinking — impaired her abilities in regards to almost everything, including fulfilling her parental role to any sort of semblance.

ROSE: She was never mean, or violent, or even particularly unkind. She was always an extraordinarily good person, as far as I could observe.

ROSE: Just not always a particularly good mother. 

Rose rubs at her face again. Her breathing is stilted, coming in odd, half-controlled gasps. In the dim lighting the common room offers, Kanaya can see the deep purple shadows under her eyes, contrasting with her eye color in a way that would be almost striking were it not something more akin to heartbreaking. 

She squeezes Rose’s hand and says nothing, leaving the space open for her to continue speaking, should she wish.

ROSE: So the whole—grieving process, as it were, has been rendered rather complicated.

ROSE: Sometimes I feel as if I’m grieving for someone I never even knew particularly well. Sometimes I feel like I’m not grieving for her actual death so much as I am regretting the thirteen years I spent being—God, just being a fucking idiot.

ROSE: About everything. 

ROSE: Fuck. 

She inhales again, shakily, breath stuttering, and half-turns to face Kanaya, blinking hard. Before she can stop—before she can so much as _think—_ Kanaya reaches out and brushes her fingertips against the girl’s face, still sticky with half-dried tears. 

She has a smattering of freckles across her cheeks, faded now with the lack of natural sunlight, no doubt. There’s a faint white scar across the bridge of her nose, another one high up on her right cheekbone. 

KANAYA: I Could Tell You That Grief Is Not A Linear Process Especially When The Relationship With Your Guardian Was One Of Complication

KANAYA: However Im Sure That Is Something You Know Already Even If You Do Not Wish To Admit It

KANAYA: So I Will Say That I Am Here And I Hope You Know That

KANAYA: To Sit And Listen And Assist In This Process In Any Way I Can

KANAYA: Because It Is Hard And Painful I Know This And You Are Not Ridiculous Or Stupid Or Any Similarly Demeaning Adjective For Feeling Confused And Upset

KANAYA: And I Do Not Want You To Struggle With This Alone Rose. I Do Not Want That For You At All

Rose blinks again, and Kanaya feels something wet drop onto the back of her hand. She’s resting her palm fully on the side of Rose’s face, now, cupping the girl’s cheek in her hand. She swipes her thumb across the space underneath the girl’s eye, brushing aside the tear, and feels Rose’s hand—it’s still under her other one—tense, almost imperceptibly. 

ROSE: I’m sorry.

ROSE: This — this is embarrassing.

But she’s stock-still. She isn't pulling away.

ROSE: I’m — I’m sorry. 

And Kanaya isn't either.

And Rose’s eyes are like exploding galaxies: incomprehensible, intangible, heart-stoppingly beautiful. And Kanaya is a fool, she has always been a fool when it comes to this girl. Even when the world is ending. Even when it’s about to end again. 

The kiss is brief, but enough for Kanaya to feel like something is exploding slowly within her, warming every corner of her body, sending a buzzing sensation down her spine. Her stomach tenses, her head pounds, her own throat feels suspiciously tight, and then Rose is pulling back; for one, horrific second, Kanaya thinks she’s made a mistake, thinks Rose is about to leave, to run away, but then the girl just collapses against her, face burying into the crook of her neck, hands coming to wrap around her waist.

Kanaya holds her back, runs her hand through the white-blonde hair, rests her chin atop the crown of Rose’s hair—so odd, she can’t help but thinking, the lack of horns. Still so odd. 

She is a fool, yes. And maybe her efforts will be rendered futile anyways—perhaps tomorrow next morning, the day after, when the journey comes to an end and they reach whatever awaits for them at this session. But Kanaya finds herself, right here, in the common room, Rose in her arms and her heart in her throat, strangely okay with that, if just for a moment. 


End file.
